Monday, August 31, 2015

Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of books and history,
so it's only natural she prefers writing historical romance. She loves
transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the
journey of life, love is the sweetest reward. Linda also writes steamy to
erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont, and is one half of the writing team
of Lyn O'Farrell.

In 1758 the Pennsylvania frontier is wild, primitive and dangerous, where safety often lies at the end of a gun. Mara Dupré's life crumbles when a French and Indian war party attacks her cabin, kills her husband, and takes her captive.

Marching through the wilderness strengthens her resolve to flee, but she doesn't count on her captor teaching her the meaning of courage and the tempting call of desire.

Her destiny...

French lieutenant Jacques Corbeau's desire for his captive threatens what little honor he has left. But when Mara desperately offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, he finds the strength to refuse and reclaims his lost self-respect. As the shadows of his past catch up to him, Jacques realizes that Mara, despite the odds, is the one true key to reclaiming his soul and banishing his past misdeeds forever.

Holding the towel to his shoulder, he walked over and stood by the bed to check on the woman, who was still in a faint. Despite her pallor, he noted that her skin was fine, her nose straight and thin. She had a lower lip just full enough to entice a man to taste it, and a stubborn chin that dared him to try. Under different circumstances….”

She was perhaps not as lovely as he’d thought when he first saw her standing in the clearing—her hair, the color of corn silk, shining in the sunlight. Still, she was tall and fair, with slender curves and shapely ankles visible beneath the short skirts of a farm wife. .”

And now she was a widow. He stared down at the woman and silently vowed to see that no more innocents died today. .”

The woman gave a soft moan and opened her eyes. When she spotted him, she shrank back against the wall, arms folded defensively across her breast. His gut tightened. He didn’t enjoy terrifying women, but fear should make her easier to control. She had already proven unpredictable. .”

Terror, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. "Who are you?" .”

"My name is Jacques Corbeau, lieutenant in the army of France. And you are my captive."

* * *

Mara inhaled sharply, panic building inside her. This couldn’t be real. It was all a bad dream. She would wake up soon and tell Emile about it, and they would laugh. And laugh and laugh and…. She swallowed the hysteria engulfing her.

"Madame, are you listening to me?"

The Frenchman’s voice, sharp and insistent, demanded her attention. "There is not much time. My companions are not patient men. We must leave soon, but first I want you to bind my shoulder. Where do you keep bandages?"

Her mouth and throat were dry when she swallowed, but she choked out an answer. "The trunk. Under the bed."

He squatted beside the bed, pulled out the trunk and rummaged through it. She watched his every move, unable to take her eyes off him, alarmed by the physical threat he represented.

He was a tall man who dominated the cabin as Emile never had, and his state of undress revealed nearly every inch of his lean and powerful form. Not only was he bare to the waist, but his breechclout and leggings failed to completely cover his thighs and buttocks. He had a wide-shouldered, rangy body and long, sinewy legs. He looked strong, virile, and infinitely dangerous.

A cold knot formed in Mara’s stomach. The French had killed her father and now her husband. What would they do to her?

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Her grandfather would say whatever happened was God’s will, but she rejected that idea. What kind of God allowed such awful things to happen?

Fearfully, she watched as the Frenchman shoved the trunk back under the bed and stood. He held out the bandages, and she froze. She couldn’t touch him, she just couldn’t.

The man’s heavy black brows drew together in a fierce frown, but his voice was without emotion. "Madame, I am all that stands between you and the men who killed your husband. I can be persuaded to act as your protector. It is to your advantage to do what I command."

Saturday, August 29, 2015

I thought I'd share with you an interesting site that empower women to share their stories and views of the world.

Now, the question you might be asking is how did I hear about them?

I received an invitation to be a contributor.

After looking at their site, I thought it would be exciting to share my adventures with other women. I don't just talk about my books. I also share my travel adventures and my thoughts on being a mother, woman, wife. I also connect with other women in the world who share the same hopes and dreams that I have.

MOGUL is regularly visited by more than 196 countries and 25,000 cities worldwide. MOGUL was the Recipient of the 2014 Innovator Award presented by Cadillac, named one of the Top NYC Startups to Watch in 2015 by Entrepreneur Magazine, named one of the Best Websites for Finding Top Talent by Inc. Magazine, and has been honored and recognized by Forbes, Business Insider, and Harvard Business School.

I encourage you to take a look at the site. It maybe a place where you can find friends and achieve your dreams.

TIFFANY PHAM BIOGRAPHY
Tiffany Pham is the Founder & CEO of MOGUL, an award-winning worldwide platform connecting women to trending content, including stories, products, and jobs that are personalized to their interests. MOGUL is visited by millions of women from over 196 countries and 25,000 cities worldwide. Tiffany was named one of Forbes' 2014 "30 Under 30" in Media, Business Insider's 2014 "30 Most Important Women Under 30" in Technology, and also the Winner of the 2014 Cadillac "Innovator" Award. She has spoken at the United Nations, Bloomberg, AOL, Harvard Business School, UCSD, Northeastern, Columbia, and in Dubai.

Previously Director of Business Development at CBS, Tiffany handled strategic initiatives and partnerships for more than 150 digital properties for CBS TV stations and radio stations across 29 US markets. For her contributions, she received the 2013 CBS Digital Media "All-Star" Award. She has also worked with HBO, Credit Suisse, and Goldman Sachs.

Tiffany additionally served as Head of Marketing for the Beijing International Screenwriting Competition, launched with the Beijing government. Hailed by James Cameron, Senator Elizabeth Warren, and Governor Deval Patrick as a new model of "cross-cultural collaboration between China and the US," Tiffany led the initiative to be featured in over 400+ US and Chinese media outlets, including the New York Times, Variety, Hollywood Reporter, Deadline, Beijing TV, Bloomberg, and Yahoo.

Tiffany served on the Board of Directors for No Limits Media, Board of Trustees for Provincetown Film Society, the Interactive & Technology Committee for WNET New York Public Media, and the Business Committee for the New York City Ballet for the past 6 years. Tiffany is also an Advisor to YCombinator startup BuzzStarter.

Tiffany is the co-author of the book From Business Strategy to Information Technology Roadmap: A Practical Guide for Executives and Board Members (published by CRC Press). She is a graduate of Yale University and Harvard Business School.

Friday, August 28, 2015

Blurb: A visionary is someone who sees into the future Taylor
Forrestier sees into the past but only as it pertains to her work. Hailed by
her peers as “a visionary with an instinct for beauty and an eye for the
unique” Taylor is undoubtedly a brilliant architect and gifted
designer. But she and twin brother Trevor, share more than a successful
business. The two share a childhood wrought with lies and deceit and the kind of
abuse that’s disturbingly prevalent in today’s society.Can the love of God and the awesome healing
power of His grace and mercy free the twins from their past and open their
hearts to the good plan and the future He has for their lives?

Excerpt:“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“I’m not through yet,” he mumbled,
then slid off the couch and swung her up in his arms.

Fear snuck in, darkening her eyes.
She stiffened and opened her mouth to protest. He brushed his lips over hers
and silenced her objections.

“I just want to hold you,” he
whispered and laid his forehead against hers. “That’s all. I promise,” he
added, unable to camouflage the need in his voice.

***

He’d offered her another step to
relinquish her fear and trust him. Triumph lit his expressive eyes when she
wrapped her arm around his neck, smiled, and whispered, “Okay,” then snuggled
her face against his shoulder and let him carry her to the bedroom.

With exquisite tenderness, he laid
her on the bed, crawled up beside her, and took her in his arms. Taylor felt
the strength of his need in the heat and tensed against the hardness of his
body. He eased his grip and propped up on one elbow beside her. His eyes
pleaded for grace when he stroked the hair off her face and said in a soft, husky
voice, “Please don’t be afraid of me; please trust me. I will never force or
even persuade you to give more than you’re ready to.”

They gazed at each other for a long,
tender moment. She cupped his cheek in her hand, brushed her thumb over his
mouth, then curled her fingers in his hair and urged his head down to fasten
her lips to his. A low moan escaped his throat, yet he held himself taut.

Taylor ran her hand over his
shoulder and back in a soft caress then wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hold me, Alex, I trust you.”

The emotions reflected in his tone
caressed her heart when he thanked her in that beautiful velvety-rough voice.
He rolled onto his back, pulled the covers over her, and held her while she
slept.

Author bio: Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with
an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.”

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Emily Thompson, Rose to her friends, emigrates to the motherland, England,
in search of a better life. It will be hard work for the young mother in this
rich man’s country; above all she must also come to terms with this unknown
phenomenon; di Hinglish dem.

James Dunbar. Jack is what he answers to. Picking his way through the
mucky incidents of life, he consoles himself that things will get better.

They happen to meet at a bus-stop, Emily and Jack.

A tale of how the
humble live whilst waiting for their dreams to come true.

*

In the following
excerpt, news flies faster than Lester Piggot (a famous English jockey and him
small like a squirrel); fast as a shame from the J.A. (as Jamaicans call their
country) to the UK.

Martha Brae, October —, 19—

Dear Rose,

I’m sure everything in England is going fine for you. As
soon as I open your letter and parcel, I sit down to write and tell you thank
you, that Marlene and Leroy overjoy with the things you send them. You know me
don’t have a good head like you, and me is not someone love pen and paper, so I
make it short. Marlene draw this little picture for you. She say you must make
sure you keep it because when she come to England she is going to look and see
if you still got it. The child cheeky as a shame.

You say everything is fine and I believe you, but me also
hear bad story them from other people. I hear how black people can’t go out at
night and have to fear the skinhead them like the blacks in the fifties did
afraid of the Teddy Boys. But because you don’t go out so much you probably
don’t get to hear this. And other people talk how difficult it is to get a job
or somewhere to live because the white people them prejudice and want to squash
you up in a cooby like a chicken. I know you doing alright but I don’t know if
I could pick up myself go to a country where people look down at me. Is enough
that them behave like that right here in Jamaica without you go abroad for the
same treatment and get spit on even more. The black sometimes as bad as the
white people them and ignorance spread out all over the world.

We talking about white. Me hear you have a white boyfriend.
Is true or is not true? You don’t have to hide it from me. Me hear him is one
old old white man you meet at the bus-stop and him pay you fare everywhere you
want to go in London. Him was one chaufur, or how you call it, and use to drive
the big politician you see in the television up and down the country. Is true?
Me also hear him and Richard is best friend. Is how come you don’t tell me the
half of what happening over there, Rose? Is how come I have to find out
everything second hand? People them asking me if me know this and if me know
that, I must know because my good friend in England. I don’t know what to say
and I don’t know what to believe when the people them talk. Don’t you think
it’s time for you to put me in the picture?

It look like I am going to have another child next year. I
don’t need no doctor to tell me I’m nine weeks pregnant. I don’t tell nobody - them
will see for themselves in time. Glad him gone. Me did chase him out. Him too
little and nasty. One more mouth to feed, I would like to know what the Lord
have in mind for me? You know what it say in the Bible, to them who got shall
be given and from them who don’t have shall be taken away. Well at least that
was a piece of clever thinking you did going to England. Now you move out of
the one camp into the other while me still sitting right there as always with
no way of getting out. Maybe me fix up myself with one a them Hinglanman come
back to J.A. and got a little something in him pocket. Who knows, such a nice
girl like me (smile).

Well, this was just a thank you letter and to give you my
little piece of news. Take care of yourself and don’t forget that I’m waiting
for explanations.

Your friend,

Junie.

The novel is not a typical
story where you know how things will end even before you've even finished the
first page. I promise, you won't! Not until the very last words. And it's more
than a mere love story. It’s about faith; about loving the life you see ahead
of you, in your dreams. And allowing no one to take it away from you.’

(Joan Barbara Simon, interviewed
by Lucy Walton for Female First)

About the Author

Dr Joan Barbara Simon divides her time between researching children’s literacy development and writing fiction. Having obtained her first Ph.D. in educational studies, she’s dared to go for her ultimate challenge: a Ph.D in Creative Writing. Of herself, she says: ‘I’ve made it my mission to look more closely at undefined spaces as the best way to resist the temptation and comfort of easy answers. I’m interested in a broad range of language issues. Currently wrapping my brain around the political properties of words as polysemic, liminal entities and the nature of their common borders with the visual arts and gendered realities. That said, I’m a nice girl, so talk to me.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Excerpt from Banished Scoundrel one of the stories in the Banished series

“Have you dropped off your stipend for the game

tomorrow?” She laid her finely, manicured hand on

his arm. The dainty touch sent sparks of awareness

through him, and his cock swelled. “The governor

likes to put all the money in his strongbox for

safekeeping before the party begins.”

Jack reined in his desire and reminded himself

of his primary objective—to transport the lady back

to Ardenia.

However, he liked Sloan’s clever rule. If a man

didn’t contribute the required gold coins to the game,

the governor shouldn’t waste resources entertaining

him. “No, I can’t say that I have. I arrived just a few

moments ago..”

“Then let me show you to the study, and I’ll

fetch you a drink.” She touched his arm again and

stepped into the foyer.

He bowed his head slightly and played the

unfamiliar part of a refined gentleman. “And you

are?”

She fluttered her hand over her face and

brushed a wisp of light brown hair from her brow.

“The governor calls me Kitty. It’d probably be best if

you did, too.”

“What an alluring name? It makes me think of a

cat with its lips covered by a luscious coat of cream.”

Jack stared at Kitty’s mouth, and his tongue tingled

at the idea of tasting her rich, flavorful lust.

She giggled and wove her hand through the

crook in his arm. The soft swell of her breast

bumped against his arm. “Oh, you’re naughty, but I

love the alluring image.”

“Then, I hope you’ll let me have a taste later.”

He didn’t crowd her but allowed her to step back.

She led him across the entranceway to a door on the

other side.

Remember she’s a princess.

Blurb: Known scoundrel Jack Avery must earn the queen's forgiveness by rescuing her missing daughter from the human world. His sources reveal the Princess Noelani is being held by a powerful man who likes a good game of chance. So with twenty borrowed pieces of gold Jack enters the high-stakes game. Only the lady he encounters is no princess. This pretty Kitty makes him want to hear her purr.

Under a memory spell, Kitty recalls nothing before the governor bought her from her parents and offered her protection from those he claims would kill her kind. So what if, in order to control her, he forces Kitty to morph then deprives her of sexual release after transformation. But the crafty card player she is assigned to “entertain” reveals himself as a kindred spirit—a shape shifter—and unravels the lie she’s been forced to live.

Together Jack and Kitty risk it all, for the stakes are high and the prize is worth it...freedom, forgiveness, love.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

About the Book

Title For Women Only

Genre Science Fiction with Romantic Elements

Author Kayelle Allen

Book heat level (based on movie ratings): PG13

About the Story

Sweet Science Fiction Romance with a Kick. The Antonello Brothers series continues with For Women Only. When Kin Ambassador Mehfawni visits the capitol planet of the Tarthian Empire, she meets the human Khyff, a security expert with the company For Women Only. Fawni expects a fling, but finds love. Upon discovering her own people devastated Khyff's family, she longs to restore all he lost, but some tragedies can never be reversed. Her family demands she cast out the human, for if she keeps Khyff, she must deny her heritage and abdicate her future rule. When Fawni searches for an alternative, she stumbles upon Khyff’s darkest secret, a cover-up that if exposed, will betray her world to its enemies, and bare her family to open shame. But how can she leave him to suffer in the darkness that binds his heart?His secret truth is her people's darkest lie.(Book 1: At the Mercy of Her Pleasure)

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Booze, music, sex, murder, Prohibition… NewYork…what a time
to be alive!

In this sequel to FROM HERE
TO 14TH STREET, Vita and Tom McGlory and their three children are
struggling to make ends meet.

It's 1932. Prohibition rages,
the Depression ravages, and Billy McGlory comes of age whether he wants to or
not. Musical and adventurous, Billy dreams of having his own ritzy supper club
and big band. On the eve of his marriage to the pregnant Prudence, the shifty
"businessman" Rosario Ingovito offers him all that and more. Fame,
fortune, his own Broadway musical…it's all his for the taking, despite Pru's
opposition to Rosie's ventures.

Meanwhile, Pru's artistic career gains momentum and their child is born. Can
anything go wrong for Billy? Only when he gets in way over his head does he
stop to wonder how his business partner really makes his millions, but by then
it's far too late…

The birth of BOOTLEG
BROADWAY:

With FROM HERE TO 14TH
STREET set in 1894, I needed to set this a generation later, which happened to
be the 1930s—with Prohibition and the Great Depression as the backdrop. This is
the first book I ever wrote where I created the characters first, with nothing
to do yet. The plot developed the way it did because of who they are. My goal
was to get Billy into one mess after another. This era couldn’t have been more
suited to Billy’s adventures, a few of which he barely escaped with his life.

Nicknames from real life:

As in FROM HERE TO 14th
STREET, a lot of characters have nicknames like Piggy Balls and Dirty Neck
Bruiso. I sat around the table with my surviving aunts and uncles who were then
in their 80s and 90s, and they rattled off these nicknames from ‘the old days’
in Jersey City like they made them up yesterday. That was a standard Italian
neighborhood custom, everybody had a nickname. Some were more descriptive than
others. But you didn’t just ‘get’ a nickname. You had to earn it.

My fav passage from BOOTLEG
BROADWAY:

Pru had kept closemouthed all day about what she was
giving him, although he badgered and hounded her, but she wouldn’t give in.

As Ma began divvying up the rum cake, the doorbell
rang, and Da came back with a long box. “This thing’s heavy. What’s in here,
Pru? Billy’s tombstone?”

Billy cut the ribbon with the cake knife and slid the
lid off. Wads of tissue paper filled the box. As he removed the last layer of
covering and revealed what was inside, they all gasped—a sculpture of a naked
man, in all his masculine glory—and fully aroused. He had one hand on his hip
and one foot upon a pedestal on which was inscribed in bold letters, “BILLY.”

“Oh, crap.” His face turned red hot.

This was the first book I
ever wrote where I created the characters first, with no storyline whatsoever.
All I knew was that it was during Prohibition, and I wanted to get the main
character, Billy McGlory, into one mess after another.

Here’s a prime example of
that, in this excerpt:

Heading south on Madison Avenue, I heard
the siren. I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the unmistakable
Greyhound radiator ornament of the Lincoln behind me. Cop car. All the
gangsters drove Lincolns, which had a top speed of 80, so the cops had to get
Lincolns to keep up with them. I tried to get the hell out of his way—he
must've been going to a robbery or a diner or something. I pulled over, and he
pulled up next to me. Oh, shit. It was me he was after.

I rolled down the window and asked
sweetly, "Yes, sir, what can I do for you, sir?"

"License and registration
please."

"Uh—what's wrong, officer? Did I
commit a traffic violation?" As the son of the ex-Chief of Police, I
should have been real comfortable around cops, but to tell the truth, they
scared the hell out of me. The cops my father knew weren't the crooked ones.
They were the straightassed ones, just like him, who fought Tammany and made a
career out of busting crooks. They didn't have a price, like the rest of them.
Hardnosed bastards, some were frustrated politicians and not smart enough to
get into law school, so they enforced the laws from behind their badges. Hell,
I was all for law and order, but these guys sometimes took it too far.
"Your back license plate is missing."

"License and registration,
please," he repeated, in what passed for a more menacing cop voice. Now he
assumed his cop stance, pudgy fists on meaty hips, waiting while I dug through
the glove compartment, tossing aside all the crumpled up sheet music and junk
crammed in there. Oh, that's where my emergency pack of cigarettes was, and
that old box of prophylactics! But damned if I couldn't find the registration.

"Uh—I can't find it, but it's my
car, honest. I mean, it was a gift to me, but it's been paid for, it's not
stolen or anything. I can probably find it in my penthouse. You wanna follow me
there? It's only two blocks aw—"

"Step out of the car, please."

Uh-oh. I felt my bowels burning. I had
two briefcases bulging with two shitloads of money in the back seat.

He poked his head into the car. "What's
in the briefcases?"

"Uh—I dunno. I'm doing an errand for
somebody."

"Yeah, I'll bet you dunno. Step
aside, please."

"Hey, you got a search
warrant?" I demanded.

But demanding a search warrant from a New
York City cop was like demanding a shot of Scotch from Satan in the middle of
Hell.

I didn't want to look. I turned my head
and flattened my palms on the roof of the car, like I was being searched. I
heard the clicks as he sprang the latches and his not-so-surprised
"mm-hmmm" as he checked out the contents.

"Who you doing this errand for,
sonny boy?"

What was with the "sonny boy"?
He wasn't much older than me. I knew he just wanted to put me down. Screw that.
I've been called a lot worse by much better cops than him. He obviously didn't
know who I was. "Uh—I'd better get a lawyer or something."

"You'd better come with me."

"Look, uh—you wanna just take a few
bills outta there and forget it?” I asked, real generously. “I mean, uh—we're
all in this mess together, ya know—"

"Bribing an officer of the law is a
very serious offense, sonny boy. You'll have to come with me. Park your car
there, please."

Meg Antille works long hours on the charter cruise ship Far Horizon so she can send credits home
to her family. Working hard to earn a promotion to a better post (and better
pay), Meg has no time for romance.

Former Special Forces soldier Red Thomsill only took the
berth on the Far Horizon in hopes of
getting to know Meg better, but so far she’s kept him at a polite distance. A
scheduled stopover on the idyllic beach of a nature preserve planet may be his
last chance to impress the girl.

But when one of the passengers is attacked by a wild animal
it becomes clear that conditions on the lushly forested Dantaralon aren’t as
advertised – the ranger station is deserted, the defensive perimeter is
down…and then the Far Horizon’s
shuttle abruptly leaves without any of them.

Marooned on the dangerous outback world, romance is the
least of their concerns, and yet Meg and Red cannot help being drawn to each
other once they see how well they work together. But can they survive long
enough to see their romance through? Or will the wild alien planet defeat them,
ending their romance and their lives before anything can really begin?

Excerpt:

Excerpt
from Star Cruise: Marooned by Veronica Scott

What in the seven hells had Drewson been
thinking, taking off without them?

The
ranger station was ominously quiet. The storm shutters were latched and the
usually immaculate landscaping had become overgrown, weeds running riot,
untrimmed vines establishing a foothold on the ornamental fence, and even
scaling one wall.

“How
long do you guess the rangers have been gone?” Meg said, eyeing the building.
She glanced at the living quarters to the left, noticing the same general run
down air. The three small houses were tightly sealed, as if hunched against a
coming storm.

“The
forest grows fast,” Red said. “Probably not more than a few months. I wonder
why we weren’t warned, though.”

“Warned?”
Callina Bettis picked up on his remark. “Are we in some kind of danger?”

Red
and Meg exchanged glances. “He means we should have been notified there
wouldn’t be any immediate help onsite,” Meg said, forcing herself to speak the
lie calmly. “In case of an emergency, like the unfortunate bite Sharmali
suffered.”

Setting
the injured woman on a picnic table, Red went to the front door of the station,
Meg on his heels. She tried activating the portal to no avail, punching the
tabs hard. “You think the last person out would have left it set to open,
general access, in case anyone needed help the way we do.” She thumped her fist
on the door.

“Unless
the staff didn’t expect anyone to be here,” Red said. “Are you sure there’s not
something you forgot to tell me?”

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Besides Catherine being a wife and mother, she has ridden
and exhibited Morgan Sport Horses. She's an avid clothing and costume designer,
an award-winning amateur photographer, a 4-H leader, and a Red Hatter who loves
bling.

She lives on a farm nestled in the foothills of the
Allegheny Mountains of Western Pennsylvania. In the quiet of the countryside,
she writes fantasy, futuristic, and paranormal stories where a reader can
escape to other worlds for adventure and romance.

Her short stories have appeared in hard-copy and online
anthologies and magazines. Besides having two novels published, soon to be
released is her lighthearted fantasy/sci-fi romance HEARTS AKILTER. Catherine
also gives writing workshops, both online and in-person. A schedule is posted
at http://www.writerscheatsheets.com/workshops.html

When a medical robot insists he's having a heart attack,
Marlee Evans, a pragmatic maintenance technician, has every reason to panic.
There's a bomb inside him.Since Marlee
can't risk the bomber discovering she's found the device, her only option is to
kidnap Deacon Black, an unflappable bomb expert, and secretly convince him to
disarm it.Things go slightly awry when
Deacon sets a trap for someone who is trying to kill him, and inadvertently
captures Marlee instead.Instantly
intrigued by her refreshingly forthright and gutsy attitude, he's smitten.Unfortunately for Deacon, Marlee recently
hardened her heart and swore off men, especially handsome ones with
boy-next-door grins.But as Marlee and
Deacon attempt to identify and prevent the bomber from detonating the device, they
discover that love may be the most explosive force of all.